My eyes began to fill with tears and the person leaned forward, leaving me on my knees. My breath was fading. I felt the right hand let go of my neck and I took the opportunity to catch some air. At that moment, Grandma, my parents, Emma,John, and everyone I cared about passed before my eyes. It was enough for the adrenaline to flood my system and I took a deep breath, throwing my elbow back as hard as I could.
I heard a loud snap, followed by a grunt of pain that didn’t even sounded human. I saw that the elbow was working, and on my knees, I prepared to do it once more. I threw my elbow back again, now pushing with my right leg and trying to get up. I managed to hit the person who still held me by the neck with a tight grip, but this time I felt something rip me just below the elbow. I heard drops of blood hitting the wooden floor.
I realized that if I couldn’t get up before the person put the second hand back on my neck, I would be dead in a few minutes. My left hand, which instinctively held tight to the hand, began to force down, trying to disengage the hand from where it seemed it would never leave. I joined the other hand, my arm bleeding, and kept trying to take the hand away. My breath was already at the end when I finally got up.
With my back, I pushed the person against the wall, shattering a vase on the floor, and my neck was finally free. As I caught my breath, I felt two hands behind me, and I was pushed forward with force, bashing my forehead on the countertop and falling to the ground. Without giving me any time to recover, a kick in my stomach came right after.
I was dizzy, out of breath and with the blurred vision of what I assumed to be blood falling in my eyes. All the pain I felt made me want to close my eyes and give up. But I was too stubborn for that. I began to raise the courage to get up when I heard a familiar voice call me from afar. It was John.
“Liz?” He called again.
The voice came from the front door. I heard quick footsteps on the wood and struggled to turn my head and see what’d happened. I turned my head slowly and saw that now I was alone, lying on the kitchen floor. I put both hands on the ground and forced myself to get up. I held onto the edge of the counter, rubbing the back of my hand in my eye that was full of blood that fell from my forehead.
I stood there for a moment, breathing deeply and stopping when I realized that even that hurt. I took a step forward planning to reach the door and everything began to spin. I heard John call me again and everything went dark.
When I opened my eyes, John was pacing back and forth. I tried to get up and soon realized it wasn’t a good idea. My head and my whole body started to ache. The cut on my right arm burned and continued to bleed. I touched my forehead slightly and saw that there was also a cut there.
“Ouch!” I said, feeling a twinge in the head.
John turned quickly and came to where I was. I realized we were in the living room; me laying on the couch and John now sitting next to me. He looked at me carefully and the anger was transparent.
"Is it that bad?" I asked with a grimace.
“How are you feeling?” He asked, staring at the cut on my forehead.
I tried to take a deep breath, but a prick in my ribs made me stop immediately. I continued with short breaths.
"Like a madman tried to kill me in my own house," I said.
He looked extremely annoyed, as evidenced by the red tint on his cheeks. John closed his eyes for a few seconds before speaking again. I seemed to see her body trembling, but I wasn’t sure.
"Come on, I'm going to take you to the hospital," he said, starting to pick me up.
“No way. It’ not necessary. I'm sure I'm not even that hurt,” I said, and for the first time I realized I was hoarse.
Automatically I brought a hand to my neck, which ached to the touch. I lowered my hand and saw that John was paying attention with an anguished expression. He slowly lifted his hand and slowly led her up to my neck. He stopped and looked at me, seeming to ask for permission. I just kept staring at his face without moving. He touched my neck slightly; passing his index finger and thumb across the sore skin. The contact of our skins burned, leaving a trail of torpor where it passed. John took his hand from my neck in a swift motion.
"There’s no reason to argue” he said, jumping up. "You're going to the hospital."
"I already said I won’t" I answered in an angry tone. “I can clean the cuts myself.”
“Liz, please.”
"John ..." I started talking and tried to sit up slower this time. Everything turned, but I didn’t faint again. “The only injuries I have are the ones you see. There is no need for a hospital.”
“Okay. But any sign that you're going to faint again, I'll take you. I'll take you by force if I have to.”
He sat back where he was before.
"Deal," I said, and tried to smile. I got the impression that it wasn’t a beautiful scene and I stopped trying. “For how long I was out?"
"Just the time it took me to get you off the floor and put you on the couch. Where's your first-aid kit?”
"It's in that closet door," I said, pointing and then lowering my aching arm.
John walked to the kitchen and took the kit from the cupboard.
“What happened?” He asked when he came back. John seemed reluctant and interested at the same time. I realized undoubtedly that he didn’t want to hear what’d happened, but he had to know.
"I heard the door slamming and called for Grandma," I said, starting to open the kit. “She’d just left.”
"Let me do this," John said, taking the kit from my lap and sitting beside me.
I told him everything that had happened since the moment I went down the stairs and wasn’t surprised when John was angry to learn that my first instinct wasn’t to flee.
"And did you get a good look at the bastard?" He asked, the fury streaming through his eyes as he wiped the cut of my forehead.
"I didn’t see him. From the instant he caught me by the neck” John scowled, “I couldn’t turn around. I couldn’t see anything.”
John looked around, paying attention to every detail and staring at the mess in the kitchen. He turned back as soon as he saw the drops of blood on the ground.
"He must’ve got away through the back door," he said quickly, trying to disguise something. "As soon as I called your name for the second time, I heard a noise in here and went inside. You were on the floor, passed out.”
"And John ..." I began to speak but stopped when it dawned on me.
A lump formed in my throat, making me swallow hard. I stared into the emptiness in silence finally realizing that I really could’ve died. That really could have been my last day.
“Liz?” John asked, lightly touching my cheek and bringing me back to reality.
“He held me by the neck with both hands, but in a moment, he let go of one of them. That's when I hit him with my elbow and felt something cut me.” I lifted my arm and showed the cut. “Almost as if he was trying to defend himself with his hand, and had something sharp in it. John, it was the Dagger. He was going to kill me.”
I felt a shiver creep up my spine when I recognized that the hunter was in my house. John stared into my eyes and I saw a spark of desperation on his face.
“That’s it. You’re not staying here anymore,” he said, rising abruptly and taking me by the arm.
“What do you mean? This is my house.”
"I don’t care," he replied. "You're not safe here. Look at you! You're all hurt!”
“John, calm down!” I brusquely pulled my arm out of his hand. “I'm not going anywhere.”
After looking at me with an unfriendly expression for a few seconds, he sat back reluctantly. He wiped the cut of my forehead again, silent. The look of anger lingered on his face, but his touch was gentle.
"You don’t have to look that angry, either. Yeah, I didn’t run, but I was sure the pot would work,” I said, trying to look funny. It didn’t work.
"Do you think I'm mad at you?" He said seriously. “I'm mad at myself! I should have been here, I sh
ould have protected you. It's my duty! But I wasn’t here, and you almost died...”
“Hey!” I interrupted him, touching the hand resting on his lap. “I’m fine. You can’t blame yourself, please. I couldn’t possibly expect you to be at my disposal twenty-four hours a day. You have a life.”
"Yes. And I almost lost it today." He took my hand and held it between his. "I would never forgive myself if something had happened to you."
I felt my throat begin to close and I swallowed hard. I didn’t know if it was the blow to the head, but I was feeling slightly dizzy. No, it wasn’t the blow. The proximity of our faces temporarily removed all the pain I felt and all my air.
"I can’t imagine what would happen if he had succeeded. And if I had arrived a few minutes later...”
“I told you I'm fine. Please, John, don’t blame yourself. You saved my life, that’s what happened.”
John put his hand on my face, holding it and sliding his thumb slowly across my cheek. I felt the bruised parts get numb and my cheeks heat up. My heart hammered in my chest. Or he had stopped beating. I wasn’t sure because I didn’t feel anything but his fingers on my skin.
He came closer slowly, now holding my face in both hands, and looked deep into my eyes. The desire was almost palpable. It was visible in the gray lake inside his eyes and I'm sure he saw it in mine, too. I felt his warm breath on my face, which made me forget all the pain I was feeling. I closed my eyes and felt his lips gently touch mine. I put my hands on the nape of his neck, pulling him closer; the need to have him as close as possible taking over my broken body. He kissed me softly, his fingers intertwined in my rebellious hair. I felt his tongue on my lips and pulled him even closer. John lowered his hands and rested them on my waist. I felt a sharp pain on the right side and groaned in his mouth. John pulled away and looked at me at the same moment, taking his hands off my waist.
"Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you," he said, the anguish returning to his face. Now I could also see the guilt that bothered him.
“I hit my ribs when I fell. And I think the kick I took didn’t help much. I hadn’t felt it yet, but I was going to sooner or later. It's better that it was this way.”
I did my best to smile, but without his touch I could feel every inch of my body ache. Still with a guilty face, John came back to me and kissed me gently.
"What in the name of God happened here?" We heard a familiar voice coming from the front door and John released me as if he had been caught on the scene of a murder.
We parted quickly and John jumped up. Grandma didn’t notice, for she looked at the broken pot in the kitchen and all the blood on the floor. I could see from where I was that her hands were starting to shake. As soon as she turned to the living room and saw me, her face went completely pale. She ran to the sofa, her eyes filling with tears.
"Sweetheart, what happened? Are you alright? Who did this?”
She spoke and examined me at the same time, turning my face, pulling my arm and examining my neck. I thought about lying so as not to worry her, but in this case John would tell the truth anyway and the bruises would speak for themselves. I felt a stab in my head and went back to lie down.
"Someone came in here and attacked me," I said after taking a deep breath.
Grandma sat where John was before, still staring at my neck. The tears were beginning to fall. She wiped the tears away and tried to look strong.
"Liz thinks it was the hunter," John said.
“The one who’s killing Chosen Ones?” Grandma asked, sounding surprised. "Why would he attack you?"
“I don’t know. But he sure was here to kill me. And surely, he would have if John hadn’t come.”
"No, I should’ve..." John started.
"I managed to hurt him," I interrupted him. “but when I was on the floor, disoriented, he would’ve finished the job. But he heard John calling me and ran away.”
Grandma looked at me, tears coming down again on her face. She got up abruptly, went to where John was and hugged him tightly. John was staring at me with wide eyes and hands in the air. I started to laugh — despite the pain — and he put his hands on Grandma's back, also smiling.
"Mary, I tried to take her to the hospital, but she wouldn’t go," he said in an apologetic tone when Grandma let go of him.
"And I don’t know how stubborn she is?"
"You know I'm still here, don’t you?"
John smiled and came to me. Grandma did the same.
"Liz, are you sure?" John asked, taking my hand. " You're not in pain?
"I am, but it's nothing I can’t stand. Some painkillers and I'll be good to go.”
I felt slightly embarrassed. For being so weak, for being in pain and especially because my only option was to have run. No one wants to feel so vulnerable, to depend on other people to keep them safe. I certainly didn’t want to.
“Okay then.”
I smiled at him, grateful. When I turned my face to Grandma, she had a cocky smile on her face, despite the tears. She tried to hide it when she saw me looking, but not so well.
"Right," she said, wiping her face. "Then I'll go get some medicine for you and then I'll go to Joe's and tell him you're going to take a few days off."
"No, Grandma," I said, sitting up quickly, then falling back in pain. "No need. I can very well go to work.”
"No way," John said. "You have pains in your ribs, they must be bruised, if they are not broken, and you hit your head. You need to rest.”
I looked at Grandma, hoping she would agree with me, but she just smiled.
"Don’t even look at me," she countered. “He’s right. We know you're strong, but no one takes a beating and goes to work the same day, honey. You need rest.”
“But, Grandma...”
"And how would you explain the marks on your neck, Liz?" Grandma asked sarcastically knowing that I would end up giving in.
"All right," I said with a scowl. "And what are you going to tell Joe?"
"The truth," she said impatiently. "He'll understand."
“The truth?”
"You didn’t think I was the only one who knew all this, did you?" Grandma said, winking at me.
Grandma left me open-mouthed. I had never imagined Joe knew about me, about all of it. Grandpa quickly came to mind. Suddenly I remembered when Grandma said he opened the diner with Joe. They must’ve really been friends in order to Grandpa confess such a thing.
John sat on the edge of the couch next to me, beginning to wipe the cut off my forehead again. I raised my arm to look at the burning cut. It wasn’t too deep, but it didn’t seem to stop bleeding. Blood flowed down my arm to my clothes and now to the sofa. The forehead cut also seemed to continue bleeding.
"John, help me get up," I said, and held both hands out to him. "I'm going to take a shower and clean all that blood. When I'm clean you can do the bandages. It will be faster that way.”
"Are you sure you can handle it?" He asked, standing up.
“Yes.”
I stretched out a hand, waiting for John to pick it up, but he just smiled and shook his head.
"Allow me, miss," he said, lowering himself.
I smiled back and nodded. John put his arms under my back and legs and lifted me off the couch slowly. He held me like I was made of feathers. Everything in me ached. I groaned as low as I could, not wanting to look weaker than I certainly did, and buried my face in John's neck.
“Are you all right?”
"Yes," I said, my face still on his neck. “It was nothing. Keep going.”
"No. You're in pain," he refuted firmly. "I'll put you back on the couch. You shouldn’t be up, it won’t help. You have to rest.”
"No." I raised my face and stared at his. "John, I just want to feel clean. This blood only reminds me of what happened. Please.”
He sighed and turned his face to look me in the eyes.
"All right,” he said.
I laid my head on John's arm and closed my eyes for a second. When I reopened
, we were already in the upstairs bathroom, next to my room. He put me down slowly and held me when I almost fell.
“Do you need anything else?” He asked and looked around, by the clear concern on his face, he was determining if I could do this without hurting myself even more.
"No, thank you," I said with a smile, for the sole purpose of calming him. “I’m fine.”
"Do you want me to wait outside to get you downstairs?”
"No. I can go down by myself. Thank you, John.”
“Right. I'll wait downstairs.”
He took a few seconds looking at me and evaluating me, kissed me quickly and left, closing the door. I stood facing the sink, leaning on it with both hands. For the first time I saw how I looked. And I looked dreadful. My neck had strong red marks, almost purplish. My forehead had an ugly cut of about four inches and my right eye was red; a red that made it clear that it would turn purple soon. I still wore the gray sweatshirt I slept in yesterday, which was now completely covered in blood. I started undressing slowly, lowering my arms as I began to feel pain. I accidentally let out a moan and covered my mouth instantly.
I looked at my ribs in the mirror. They were reddened on the side I hit when I fell on the ground and where I took the kick. For a second I reconsidered if I really shouldn’t go to the hospital. I dismissed the idea quickly with optimistic thinking that the bruises I saw were the only ones. I saw that my hair was wet with blood in some places. I went into the shower and switched on the water.
The hot water that fell relaxed my muscles and hurt the injured places. I watched the floor grow redder with blood as the water fell. I did my best to lather myself, with the cuts burning under the water. I washed my hair to get rid of the smell of blood; whenever I raised my arms feeling a sharp pain. I spent a few minutes under the water with my eyes closed. Others with tears insisting on appearing. They seemed to untie a knot that had formed in my stomach. I let the tears fall until the last one had the calming effect I so badly needed.
I left the shower slowly trying not to fall, which wouldn’t help me at all. I wrapped myself in a towel and went to my room. I got a pair of jeans and a loose shirt to wear. I combed my hair calmly, leaving my arm down at all times. A few minutes later I started going down the stairs slowly, holding the railing and staring at the front door.
The Chosen Ones: Red Smoke Page 9